


Fic: the permanent thought of you (NC-17)

by seimaisin, tuesdaysgone



Series: Teacherverse [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2010-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seimaisin/pseuds/seimaisin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard spends their entire Christmas break at Frank's apartment. Frank's managed to keep him in his bed for most of it, and he's pretty sure they're both feeling good about that arrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic: the permanent thought of you (NC-17)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fleurdeliser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeliser/gifts).



> For my very dearest [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/fleurdeliser/profile)[**fleurdeliser**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/fleurdeliser/) on the occasion of her birthday. Set in the [All I Want For Christmas Is You](http://tuesdaysgone.dreamwidth.org/2803.html) 'verse, AKA Teacherverse, a few weeks later. Thanks to Sleigh Bells for the title and cut text. ENDLESS thanks to [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/ciel_vert/profile)[**ciel_vert**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/ciel_vert/) for the beta (while I was sitting next to you, haranguing you...you deserve hazard pay.)

Gerard spends their entire Christmas break at Frank's apartment. Frank's managed to keep him in his bed for most of it, and he's pretty sure they're both feeling good about that arrangement. Every time Gerard starts making noises about leaving, Frank grabs him by the waistband of his sweatpants and hauls him back to the couch. They watch Batman movies and exchange blow jobs on the shitty carpet in Frank's living room. Really, it's the best holiday Frank's ever had.

But breaks are never long enough, and soon Gerard is looking at the calendar on Frank's refrigerator with a frown. "We still have two days left," Frank points out.

"Yeah, but I promised to clean out the supply closet in my classroom before the kids came back."

"Promised who?"

"The assistant principal. He came into my classroom during my second to last class. I sent him back to get me some clean brushes, and he ended up with green paint on his apparently extremely expensive suit."

"Let me show you how much I care about green paint," Frank mutters, backing Gerard up into the counter and sliding his hands up under his Planet of the Apes tee shirt. Gerard whines when Frank's fingers skate up his ribcage, hips pushing up against Frank's.

"Frank. Frank, stop." Gerard's grabbing for the back of Frank's neck and hauling him closer, sliding a hand into Frank's hair and pressing their lips together.

"Mmmmf - mixed message," Frank mumbles against Gerard's mouth. "Which one is it?"

"I have to go to work," Gerard says, leaning back against the cabinets. "I have to. I don't want to - "

"Good, don't," Frank tells him, curling his fingers into Gerard's waistband. Gerard bites his own lip, and Frank's leaning back in to nose along his jaw when Gerard slides out from between Frank and the counter.

"Frank," he says. "I'll be back later today, I promise." He reaches out and brushes his fingers against Frank's cheek, smiling this smile that's both filthy and strangely innocent, and Frank wants to shove him back against the counter, drop to his knees right there on the kitchen floor - again - but he lets him go. The clump of snarled hair on the back of Gerard's head is strangely endearing.

Frank spends an hour wandering around his apartment. He has work he should do - he hasn't even looked at his lesson plans yet, and several of his students had turned in extra credit projects that he'd promised to have graded by the time they got back to school. He keeps getting distracted by the remnants of Gerard scattered around - a half-empty coffee cup, the latest issue of Runaways, a dragon doodled on the edges of a textbook on the coffee table. "You're pathetic, Iero," he says aloud, but he can't wipe the grin off his face.

After a while though, he grabs his coat and bag. As long as Gerard's at the school, he thinks, he might as well go work ... okay, so he doesn't necessarily plan to work, but as long as he takes his bag with him, he can pretend, right?

When he gets to the school, he heads for Gerard's classroom.

The school is basically deserted; clearly the rest of the faculty is either much more or much less dedicated than them. Two guesses which one it is, and the first one doesn't count. Then again, the rest of the faculty has no idea that underneath the messy, overgrown-art-kid exterior, Gerard is - well, he's lucky Frank let him out of bed at all. And that was only because he's ridiculously stupid for him. Also because they ran out of cigarettes.

When he turns the corner into the art wing, he can hear tinny strains of music drifting out from underneath Gerard's classroom door. As he gets closer, he realizes Gerard is singing along, and when he opens the door, he's greeted by the sight of Gerard, belting out the chorus to "Borderline" and busting out...well, they're some pretty sweet dance moves, and Frank would laugh at him if he wasn't having some seriously dirty thoughts right about now.

He shuts the door quietly and throws the lock. Gerard is wandering back and forth from his supply closet, toting boxes full of tubes of paint while he channels Madonna.

Gerard doesn't notice him until Frank clears his throat. "Can I request 'Like a Virgin' next?"

"Jesus!" Gerard drops the box of paints he's carrying. He glares at Frank. "How long have you been there?"

"I was enjoying the concert."

"Fuck off."

Gerard bends down to pick up the paints. Frank walks over and crouches next to him. When he looks at Gerard, he noticed a giant streak of green paint smeared down the side of his neck. "Cleaning the closet, huh?" he says, running a finger along Gerard's stained skin. He comes away with a green fingertip.

"Hey, I have to check some of the old tubes, make sure that they're not all dried out and stuff."

"Right."

He follows Gerard to the closet. There's a canvas propped up against the wall smeared with several colors of paint. Frank can find the corresponding streaks of color in various places on Gerard's skin. When Gerard lifts his arms above his head, his shirt rides up and Frank sees a patch of bright yellow on Gerard's belly. "What," he says, wrapping an arm around Gerard's waist and brushing the streak, "were you painting shirtless?"

Gerard looks down, surprised. "No ..." Frank lifts the hem of his shirt, and Gerard squints. "I have no idea how that happened. Honestly."

"You're weird." Frank presses a kiss to the clean side of Gerard's neck. "You're lucky I love you."

Gerard freezes, and it takes Frank a minute to play back what he's just said and realize - _Oh_. He's been in love with Gerard for most of the three years that he's known him, honestly, and he's said it a million times, too, needing to let the words out, knowing the full meaning would be lost on Gerard. It was better than nothing. And now...now that nothing has suddenly become everything, well, it's different. Frank doesn't let go, though, just buries his face further in Gerard's neck and whispers, "Gee, I - "

"God, Frank," Gerard whispers back, "how are you - how is this - "

"It's real," Frank says, going for teasing. "None of my daydreams ever involved a giant splotch of cadmium blue on your jaw." He taps lightly at the spot, and Gerard shudders.

"Mine did," Gerard admits in a confessional tone, and Frank laughs, then stops.

"Wait, really?" After he thinks about it for a minute, he's deeply unsurprised by this information; the agenda that brought him here this afternoon - the one that prompted him to lock them in here - suddenly takes a fascinating turn. He spins Gerard around, pushes him gently but firmly into the shelves, and rucks up the front of Gerard's shirt again.

Frank spreads his palm over the yellow streak and curls his fingers into Gerard's skin. Gerard shudders. "So," Frank says, "tell me about these paint-related daydreams."

"Here?" Gerard says, looking around the closet.

"Why not? We have paint, and there's no one here." Frank's surprised to realize he's serious. Sure, he's had a lot of fantasies - most of them involving Gerard - about sex in various inappropriate places of the school, but he never actually thought he'd make good on any of them. But maybe he's getting high on the paint fumes, or maybe the feeling of Gerard's hips squirming against his as Frank runs his hands up over his skin until his palm brushes against Gerard's nipple is just too much for him to resist. Probably the latter. Whatever the case, yeah, he's all for whatever ideas Gerard has to offer.

Gerard makes a sound low in his throat, and Frank kisses his neck. "Well," Gerard says. "I've always ... I love the colors on your skin," he says. He brings a hand up to run a finger along the tattoos on Frank's arm. "Not to sound all weird or lame or anything, but you're a fucking work of art, Frank."

Gerard's eyes are serious, and suddenly there's a lump in Frank's throat. He presses his mouth against Gerard's. "So," he says, their lips still touching, "what? You want to paint on me?"

He feels Gerard's cock twitch against his belly. "Yes," he breathes.

Frank steps back and tugs his shirt up over his head. "Okay. Go ahead."

"But," he says, holding up a hand as Gerard steps forward, "I get to return the favor." Gerard stops, hands twitching by his sides, and Frank grins. "You like that, don't you? You wanna see what colors we can make?" Gerard makes a tiny, overwhelmed noise and Frank yanks him the rest of the way forward, fumbling for the hem of Gerard's tee shirt and tugging it off. Gerard emerges from the swath of fabric, hair sticking up all over and pink blooming over his cheeks. He's breathing fast. Frank leans forward, nibbling along the curve of Gerard's shoulder as he fumbles on the shelves behind him. He retrieves a handful of paint tubes and presents them to Gerard solemnly.

Gerard, always the artist, squeezes several colors - fire engine red, more cadmium blue, an acid-y green - onto the top palette of a nearby stack. His hand hovers over the palette for a moment before he dips his fingertips in and reaches up to smear a trail of yellow up the clean curve of Frank's right shoulder. It's cold, and tickles, but Frank bites his bottom lip and stays still. Next is the red, swooping down his jaw. The yellow, mixing in to leave an orange swirl along his collarbone. The green, dotted in a delicate line down the center of Frank's chest. Gerard's touch is delicate but sure, and Frank shivers several times before he reaches Frank's belt and hesitates. Frank wants to push forward into Gerard's hands but instead he hooks his fingers behind his belt buckle and smirks. "Running out of real estate already?"

"Just take them off," Gerard says, and Frank's lips twitch.

"Nope. My turn first."

Frank takes the paint tubes and drops to his knees. He hears Gerard's sharp intake of breath. Frank just grins and squeezes a large amount of blue paint onto his palm. He dips his fingers into the paint and trails them across Gerard's belly lightly. He makes several swirls and uses his index finger to draw a line up to Gerard's nipple, making a circle around the sensitive skin. He sits back and admires his work. The contrast between the bright blue and Gerard's pale skin is gorgeous. He goes to run a hand up Gerard's side - only he uses the wrong hand, and smears the rest of the paint in his hand onto Gerard in one swoop.

"That's great technique," Gerard teases.

"Yeah, yeah, you're the professional." Frank smears the paint in a large circle from front to back. "I can barely draw stick figures."

That gives him an idea, and so he grabs a bit of the red paint and draws two horizontal stick figures on the bare side of Gerard's torso. Gerard looks at it from above. "Did you just draw stick figures fucking on me?"

"It's a pictorial representation of what we should be doing right now."

Gerard laughs. Frank sits back; his face is level with Gerard's crotch, which definitely shows interest in Frank's ideas. Frank grabs the waistband of Gerard's pants and hauls him down to the ground. Gerard knocks several tubes of paint to the floor. "We're undoing all the work I just did," he mutters as he pushes Frank to the floor.

"We'll clean it up later," Frank promises.

He shoves Gerard over onto his back and straddles his hips. Gerard makes a face, squirming and pulling a paint tube out from under his back. "Thank you," Frank says solemnly, taking the tube and squirting a glob of paint onto his palm. "Final touch," he murmurs, slicking a stripe of paint all the way up Gerard's chest, paint squelching between his fingers as he wraps his hand around the back of Gerard's neck and leans over to kiss him. Gerard's still wearing his sweatpants, and Frank scoots back till he can push them and Gerard's briefs down around his thighs. Gerard's propped up on his elbows and he sinks his teeth into his own lip, watching Frank's colorful palms skim back up his thighs.

Frank smirks, watching Gerard's eyes widen as Frank leans closer to his crotch. He's hard and flushed and his blue-smeared stomach ripples as his sucks in a breath. Frank's wrapping a hand around his cock in the next moment, jerking him lazily as he leans down and touches his tongue to the head. Gerard moans. Frank almost moans too; he fucking loves this taste, loves that it's Gerard writhing under him in ripples of white skin and bright splashes of color. He leans down further, taking Gerard fully into his mouth and falling into the rhythm he's learned will make Gerard a writhing, bucking mess. He's gorgeous that way, and Frank wants to see it. He's been waiting for this all morning, ever since he decided to follow Gerard over here. There's time for slow later.

It doesn't take long. Frank watches, using his mouth and hand to bring Gerard to the edge, until finally he arches off the floor, shaking and calling Frank's name. When Frank sits up, he stares down at Gerard. He's covered in paint from neck to hips, with hand prints on his thighs where Frank had grasped him. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and his chest heaves as he catches his breath. "Jesus, you're hot," Frank says.

Gerard looks at him. "I'm covered in paint."

"Well, yeah."

"And you're still dressed." Gerard sits up and grabs Frank's belt buckle.

"That can be fixed." Frank stands up to undo his jeans. Gerard gets to his knees and helps him pull his jeans down to his ankles. Before Frank can get back on the ground, Gerard takes him in his mouth.

Frank still can't believe he has this; Gerard's pink mouth wrapped around his cock, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. He's making these noises that vibrate up and down Frank's skin. Frank puts a hand in his hair; it streaks red paint into the black. The red looks really good, Frank thinks. And then Gerard slides his mouth down to the base of Frank's cock, and Frank can't think of anything else.

He grabs onto the edge of one of the shelves, trying to hold his hips still as Gerard takes him in deep. Gerard reaches up and grabs onto his hips, pulling him in as he takes Frank fully into his mouth, and Frank can't stay still any more. Gerard just moans around him, and it's the vibrations that do him in; a few paint tubes patter to the floor as he clutches harder at the shelf, Gerard's hair slipping through his fingers as he shakes and comes. He folds back down to his knees, reaching for Gerard's face and kissing him hungrily, tasting himself in the corners of Gerard's mouth. It's almost enough to make him hard again.

Frank's not sure how long they stay like that, kneeling naked in the storage room with art supplies scattered around them, paint drying on their skin. He just knows it's not nearly long enough. He pillows his head on Gerard's shoulder, nose pressed to Gerard's neck as he breathes in the scent of sweat and paint and cigarettes from Gerard's skin. Gerard wraps his arms around Frank and rests his cheek on the top of Frank's head. Eventually he says, "The janitor is really going to hate me now."

Frank snorts. Gerard's feud with the janitor is legendary. "I'll help you clean up, don't worry."

"You'd better. This is your fault, you know."

"No, this is your fault. You were the one who just had to come in here today."

Gerard pulls back far enough to tuck Frank's hair behind his ears. He's smiling. "And this is your way of...dissuading me?"

"Guess I didn't think that one through. How 'bout some positive reinforcement instead?"

Gerard tips his head to the side, face exaggeratedly serious. "I'm listening."

"I was thinking...clean up, go get coffee and Chinese, and go home for a zombie marathon."

"Is 'zombie marathon' some sort of weird code for sex?"

Frank can't help but laugh. "Only you would ask that. Um...I'm not going to answer that. Why don't we just go, and you can find out." He leans in and kisses Gerard once more, slow and sweet this time.

"You do have the best ideas." Gerard hauls himself to his feet and extends his hand to pull Frank to his feet.

Frank taps the drying stick figures on Gerard's side, laughing when Gerard shrieks and shies away ticklishly. "Clearly, I do."


End file.
